


timely

by orphan_account



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Drug Use, Excessive Drinking, F/M, M/M, but it's pretty brief, some vomit, there are two other characters but you can imagine them as w/e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He decides to let himself enjoy the night, follow the flow through its smooths, abrupt stops and sharp turns.





	timely

**Author's Note:**

> Listen; I love fancy boy Aleks who wears nice clothes and drinks expensive booze, but I also like Russian party rat Aleks who fucks around and has a failing liver. So. 
> 
> the inspiration for this comes from a music video I once saw on the playboy channel but forgot the title of. 
> 
> Also sorry if the gay symbolism with the names gets a bit annoying. <3

He ruffled His hair in an aggressive attempt to get the. water droplets out, trying to blink away the sting of shampoo in His eyes as it poured down the drain by His feet with the force of water bombarding His body. He spun the valve, eyes catching on the still slightly pink puddles of water, slowly sinking away into the drain. 

He hopped out, wringing himself dry with an off white towel, the discoloration coming from its awful amount of age - that thought would usually make His nose wrinkle. He’s upset with Himself that it doesn't anymore. 

He gave a once over of Himself in the sink mirror, eyebrows furrowing before His hand was clenching the can of shaving cream, lathering His jaw in the soft foam before grabbing the razor. He worked away at puberty-like patchy stubble, face clenched and eyes glued to avoid any spring ups of red cuts on His fugly mug. 

He gave Himself a final look, seeing that He won't be able to fix much else when He washed away the remnants of foam. He quickly shook off the water clinging to His palms, leaving the dingy bathroom with a pitched click of the light.

He leaned by the shelve display in His room, plucking out a Hard Rock CD, dropping it into the player before He went about. He let the towel drop from His waist, kicking it to a corner of the room before tugging on track pants and a shirt, getting His watch and rings off the nightstand. His eyes flicked up to the bottle and glass resting on the stand, flicking His wrist and getting a grip on the neck of the bottle, choking it while He got the smudged and dirty glass. He tilted the bottle, throwing His head back with the glass when it was half full, the alcoholic burn down His esophagus - a small comfort. 

The middle drawer screeched over the thumping music as it was tugged out, a tiny container rolling with a few soft clinks into His vision. He took it excitedly, a grin sprouting on His lips as He held the small glass cylinder up to the light - half full. The bed creaked when He bounced off it, treading to the desk, dumping His weight down on the squeaky chair, smiling at how it screamed at Him with the pressure of His ass on it. 

He uncapped the little bottle, gently giving it a few taps with His nail to get a tiny bit of the snowy powder onto His desk, He just needed one line. He leaned back, fetching His credit card from His wallet to shape up the line to His will, letting it drop as He rolled a dollar bill between His fingers. He leaned down, intaking the grains messily, rubbing away at His nose as He felt as though He were about to sneeze. He blinked a few times, the edge of His lip tilting, happy to have something setting an example for the rest of His night. He was by His bed again, tying His shoes before His hands found His wallet and keys, shoving one of the items in His pocket before He was out the door. 

The drive to Diablo Taco was by in seconds before He was taking His meal, a lingering grin tossed to the lady sitting by the counter before He was scarfing his burrito in His century old car. He tossed the greasy wrapper to the backseat, feeling like His little feast would last Him the night - or rather half of it. 

The slam of His car door stabbed through the sounds ricocheting around Him in the sketchy street, a quick pace set as He went to and through the club His destination had been set to. 

A filthy smirk stayed stretched on His lips, the gesture directed towards half of the woman that walked by and even dared to glance His way, making His trek to the bar, wall of liquors already in sight. 

He sat, forcing His mischievous facade into a honey-sweet smile towards the barman, smoothly forming the words on His tongue in a request. The smirk dug out of its grave when He was poured just a bit more than one would usually receive, giving a seemingly subtle little wink before the drink was down His throat like bloody water down a shower drain. And then another, and another, and another, and another before the bartender slid the whole bottle His way - much to His delight. 

In His current state He could register the burning at His side, shifting His head to give a glance to who was so persistent with their eye rape. A Man, shit eating grin, nice suit - He noted before His finger curled cheesily in the man's - The Tool’s direction, beckoning him over with the left overs of His Satan’s smirk. The Tool's features turned sharp as he slid to the other, outing his hand to the blond before him, being met with a hand decked in silver bands and a silky slip of His tongue forcing out a smooth Sasha. The Tool was not one to return the gesture of names, though He really didn't have His mind zeroed in enough to care for listening to it, He knew what He wanted from this interaction and He was skillful with playing His cards accordingly in the venture for his simple needs.

There was another wave of drinks and He was now less sharp on His feet with the first few drinks settling warmly inside Him, a flush gracing Him while He fake laughed with The Tool, hands slipping occasionally to rest on a knee or thigh, His hand once sulking to The Tool’s pocket. He was happy, but The Tool was turning into a bore, it left Him no choice but to lean to the bartender, whispering about moving His tab onto The Tool prior to announcing his departure to “the restroom”.

He was in the small crowd, a slightly more secluded spot inside it so He could flip open The Tool’s wallet, segregating the cash to His own wallet, being petty with taking the few gift cards hidden in the sewn in compartments. He took a glance at the stitching, briefly debating taking the expensive looking wallet to replace His oldie - then he threw the wallet to be trampled by the people around him. His wallet is old, but He felt no rush to get rid of His beloved. 

He slipped deeper to the depths of the club, not seeing time properly pass before his eyes landed on a kid who seemed to barely be legal,let alone holding a drink in hand. Ending up surrounded by unknown people in a booth, a new drink held loosely by sweaty fingers, his other arm wrapped around The Child, he didn't even realize he had gotten there, but the contrast of The Child’s warmth to his usually colder skin was a sin like gift he was willing to give up the comprehension of time for. 

It was a bit hard to tell if his tactics were working with someone whose tongue seemed to be twisted in thirty knots, speech impediments layered atop each other to create this mess that had a strange tendency to mix curse words with words only a child would consider to be swearing. But there was a wit to The Child. Even with his breath ghosting The Child’s pulse, his beard scratching against His forehead - He felt like He could still call him a kid, like he still had this youth in him that He doesn't get to see in many, and the droopy tired eyes surprisingly didn't hinder the effect too much. Calling it a breath of fresh air would be an understatement; it felt more like the first gasp of oxygen after suffocating for days. 

Lips soft and deliciously satisfying to bite, He held him close by his soft but beard britled cheeks as He was half in The Child’s lap. The taste of beer lurking in The Child’s mouth made His head spin, His stomach flip flop and His body flush up with heat, but soon those feelings lost the good in the words used to describe them. The room was spinning, His stomach churning in circles, his body burning. 

Everything was going by Him too fast, He couldn’t catch up. His hands dug into The Child’s jaw while He panted softly against his lips, staring dead at the brown sleepy eyes faced before Him. Filled - filled to the brim with that sickeningly beautiful youth. He was being greedy, He wanted more time. He wanted mountains and mountains of nothing, but time. So much for giving that up. 

His tune was going off key, His attitude sour, but He was able to not subject The Child to His painful bitterness, caused by His body deciding to not let Him enjoy poisoning himself. He excused himself a second time that night, mind blurry, a soft ping of worry barely making it past the fogged up lenses and drowned pounding. It was a gentle little thing, like tapping its fingers harmlessly on glass - the thought that maybe He won't see The Child tonight anymore. It made Him want to stay a while longer, but the pain trying to punch His throat out made Him want to flee as fast as He could. 

His mind and His feet weren't synced up, a song with no melody while He tried to avoid slip ‘n’ sliding down the stairs, the wall His main lifeline in the narrow staircase, the one that was giving Him a sick sense of claustrophobia. The thumping of the music felt like it was making Him deaf to all that be around Him, but He worked on impulse when He heard a hurried pace coming up the stairs. He barely got a glimpse of the man, eyes linked by a phantom chain before He was pushing The Man to the wall, mouths clashing in a disgustingly unplanned and unpaced dance. 

It was a quick temporary fillment to the hole of longing digging at His being, a fast and filthy little display - an overcompensation.

His hand moved cold up to feel The Man up, fingers digging at muscle and denting skin with nail shaped marks. He groaned into His participant’s mouth, managing to recognize a pair of hands moving to make home in His back pockets, grabbing painfully at the skin underneath the material. He pulled away with a gasp, lips still pressed close to The Man’s, a verbatim of the events taking place a few minutes ago as He stared at this new pair of eyes. Kindness; a weird type of kindness, this kindness was holding a razor sharp edge up to His throat and He could only gulp before He was burping and His time was making a run for it once more. 

He got a nuzzle into his beard and a fleeting grope of The Man’s chest, escaping his grip as He stumbled the rest of the stairs in a hurry. 

He yanked the bathroom door open with vigor, pushing past the people there. Hands shaking, He got an unsteady grip on the stall’s handle, shaking it violently. He took a deep trembling breath, before His foot made forceful impact with the door, the dying clink of the flimsy lock echoing through the room. He ignored the angered and/or fearful screaming while He grabbed the boy sitting on the seat, throwing him out with a loud thunk to the stall wall before He was kneeling by the bowl. 

It was like His body was repulsed by what was inside it, needing to expel it in a violent wave of chunky light brown body waste, a painful bout of vomit. His eyes sparked with recognition when He saw the little chunks to be entailing of the burrito He had early in the night, groaning at His lost meal. 

He felt like He was being drowned in the now seemingly cramped area of the nightclub. An escape, He x-rayed through the people in deadly need for it, His lungs feeling filled with liquid, begging - praying for fresh air. The tainting smell of cheap booze and sweat was starting to make Him feel ill again. 

He burst through the door, ending in a piss stained alleyway, weak shaking hands clutching to chipped brick while His fuzzy brain dragged Him out. It was all a barfy fit of colours while He pushed past people on the street, that's all He remembers, mind wracking up and down trying to figure out where He was heading. 

Fluorescent lighting flashing light and colour to His complexion made Him smile as He stared up at the sign above the door. He gave the familiar woman standing body guard a little wave and repetitive smirk, now droopier, but the charm was still there. There was a little greeting, but it felt drowned in His ears, His own response sounding muffled even to Him. There was a playful punch to His arm and a paper band strapped to his wrist before the black lining strip was lifted and He was moping His feet through the lively, but sensually slow area. 

His previous sickness was long forgotten, replaced with eyes for the skantily clad women around Him, clothing becoming more and more scarce the deeper He went, eyes set to a leather seat, stretching His arms over the back of said seating. His dazed smile was ever present as He beckoned over a girl who was the right few slips of fabrics away from full frontal, skin a soft olive that He would happily sink His teeth into and hair a delicate brunette fading to blonde He wanted nothing but to pull. 

He kept her pressed tight to Him, her back meshing to His front as He held a hand loose on her hip, rubbing tight into the skin and bone. His other hand was slowly inching it's way up her abdomen, a journey to get up under the material hanging over her chest, needing a feel for the soft flesh-

The Girl’s head turned with a whisper telling of the private room, the idea seducing Him well enough as He smiled, leaning down to her neck and nodding against it with a hum. He was about to protest when she was disconnected from His touch. He was about to follow her, but He almost saw the comedy in the situation when He had to excuse Himself for the bathroom to piss. 

His bladder was relieved and He was washing His hands when the bathroom door creaking open caught His ears, the smell of stomach acid and sound of angered but drunken muttering flowing into the room behind it. He looked up and there was a pang in Him.

Where before it felt like time was slipping without His word - now it felt like He’s crashed. He was speeding past the hours, but now He crashed, everything deathly still when His line of sight connected with the stranger. 

Warm brown loopy locks framed a soft but bearded face like a picture, sparkling wide eyes the centerpiece. His eyes raked the person with interest and even over the seemingly puke dirtied sweatshirt he caught His eye quick. 

“The fuck you staring at, asshole?”

There was a moment of stillness, His lips gaining a mind of their own before He could repremend what was slipping:

“Nam’s Aleks.”

Another pause, the other thinking for a response, his own head not much clearer than that of the Russian. 

“James...”

Aleks slipped, again, not having all the pieces to glue together how he got James pressed to the bathroom door, hands gripping feaverlishly at fabric, teeth bumping in a cock fight of tongues. The heat was scorching, the worst He’s been through all night, but it made him feel like ruler of the world, like he had the power to melt one’s skin off with a single touch. He groped hard, feeling like what little of his sleazeball persona he had left was slipping down a slope and all he wanted was to touch and stroke at heated flesh. He wanted to fucking rail James. 

There was another bottle along the way out, a quick purchase of Absolut at the bar, liquid sloshing between two mouths when James was pressed to the side of what Aleks assumed to be his own car, better judgement gone while they tasted the vodka lingering on each others’ tongues. He was overflowing with impatience, pushing James to the side to unlock the door. He was lucky enough to hear a click, but when he tried to pull the door wouldn't budge.

He furrowed his brow, exclaiming in exasperation before he grabbed a slab of brick by the ground, getting a yell from James in shock when he threw it through the driver window, the shattering piercing in their ears. Then they were laughing, fits as they got in and started it up. 

“Dude you...you just fucking smashed your window, man…” James wrapped his lips around the lip of the bottle through laughter, cheeks red through stubble while his Adam’s apple bobbed with the shots, almost making Aleks choke. 

All the people he made contact with through the night left him in a state of wanting, filled him with a furious need, but had little of the promising permanency he needed - the promise of more. It was like they were edging him, James the glorious orgasm he needed so desperately he'd be willing to drop knees and beg. He was irrational, to have such high approval of James and his blinding looks, his loud voice, his tuggable pettable curls, and the beard burn he left on Aleks’ jaw, oh shit the beard burn- uh, it was irrational, very irrational to appraise James so much having just met him. But alcohol was a hell of a drug, one that left an almost certain guarantee of regrets - free of charge. 

He devoured James’ lips with an urgency, using the force to guide him through his disgustingly unkempt apartment. James' spine hit an occasional wall, at some point a door frame with a loud - “Ah~! That fuckin hurt, m-man…” Tripping over his tongue while Aleks’ worked at a hickey nestled in James’ shoulder, tracing his tongue over the screeching mark as he muttered an insincere apology into the pale-chestnut skin under his teeth. After the door frame came the bedroom, Aleks only then catching onto the fact that a Rammstein album had been looping since the second he left. Thank God it wasn't a live track since he didn't care enough to turn the music down now - but the thought of being applauded every 2-5 minutes did make him chuckle internally. 

Half of James’ clothes had been lost in the battle and journey to the bedroom, Aleks now able to take in more astonishment and less air as he bared eyes down on James, remembering little splashes of colour lining James’ forearms but his mind not being able to piece together what the colours formed. Aleks thinks he remembers yellow and green, but other than that it was hazy - the sprinkles of memories in adding red and purple to the colours making Aleks a bit joyous, knowing not many would be able to see the oddly placed love marks where his teeth had sunk deep while he pinned James’ hands to the bed frame. 

His hands were a lost traveler with memory issues, trying to map out every curve and smooth, glossing over every little crevice in fruitless hopes of remembering them for a time to come. If only Aleks would see the idiocy in oiling a situation that might never rear it's head, instead of focusing on the now. Still, James was soaking up the attention like a sponge, returning a similar treatment to Aleks.

A slow dance trying to accompany a metal song, their coordination was not the best. If it weren't for the mythical drunken confidence boost they’d probably feel like teenagers, not knowing where to move or how to do it, taking a while for them to get into anything. 

Aleks’ mouth hell bent on leaving James’ neck a bruised wasteland, his fingers between James’ legs, the slick, tell tale sound of lube barely heard over the music - it felt like sensory overload, especially with the visuals even if Aleks was getting almost none of the actual stimuli. He was still fully dressed, even, but James was willing to work towards changing that, though it be a bit difficult with how he was being distracted.  
James’ hands were even more unstable while they tugged and pulled at Aleks' clothing, piece after article joining the piles already scattered across the floor - then it was James' turn to stare. James’ eyes mainly glued to the eagle across Aleks’ chest, recognizing that there were other things littered over his arms, acknowledging only really one:

“Is that a fuckin’ Nemo tattoo?”

“You're...amazing at ruining the mood, dawg.”

“Yeah? And saying dawg is just so hot, huh? Asshole.” They were tempted to keep the tension, but the laughs bubbling in their mouths were too much, even with Aleks’ fingers inside of James. 

They stiffled their giggling with a kiss, tongues invading foreign places, the beat pulsing in their ears as the slow moment dissipated into heat. They clutched close, James grinding down on Aleks’ fingers to bring attention to how still they’ve gone. Aleks’ lip curled against James’, jabbing his fingers hard into his partner with a laugh at the whine to follow the action. They got back into moving, a slick hand coming to return the favour for Aleks, lips never really disconnecting. It was like a stupid phobia of personal space, sweat slicked skin to sweat slicked skin. 

They kept dicking around, dragging out what should be seconds into minutes, but impatience was rearing its head and James was quick to succumb to its complaining. 

“F-fucking...please, Aleksandr.” the tone lacked sweetness or softness, instead a clawing demand, plagued with greed. Aleks likes that, fucking shit, he loved that. He wanted to give, to spoil someone rotten to the very core, having someone demand it like they deserve it - like they’re entitled to his attention - it was making his world shake. It was toxic, what James was twisting in Aleks’ gut, like he had a firm grim on his intestines and was tying bows. 

“Hurry the hell up, you… you asshole!” the hiss knocks some small amount of sense into Aleks, realizing he has to take a break from the melting and the fucking googly eyes. Aleks strapped a palm over James’ complaining mouth, getting an overly tight squeeze to his dick from the slick hand around him and a wet small mound of muscle pressing to his fingers. His lip twitched in disgust at the saliva now on his hand, left by the childish action, but he doesn't make any detours, grip almost enough to be painful over James’ face, but it was a welcomed sort of roughness. James accepted it with open arms, at least, going rigid in Aleks’ grip, but bucking into his touch. 

Aleks was slow to pull out the fingers, wanting the burn to be slow, wanting to get James more impatient - though he was not one to be overflowing with patience himself, he could spare a few seconds to bring James hell. He kisses, litters soft pecks along James’ Adam’s apple, a hard contrast to the already blooming reds and hint of bruising yellow, a soft distraction. Aleks wrapped James’ legs over his waist, movements so unusual compared to the rest of the night, the unexpected softness almost making James feel uneasy. But, as predicted, the gentleness wasn't there for long, a steady but definitely not caring pace set to Aleks pushing into the deathly heat.

A groan mixed with a shallow breath in the air as they connected, the small tinge of pain caused by drunken improper foreplay leaving James a bit at edge, the tight tension choking Aleks while he tried to stay level headed. He closed his eyes tight, knocking a whimperish moan from James when he got to moving his hips, a slow and uneven grind, provoking and building the friction between them. That's what Aleks thought it was going to be, him taking full control - but life doesn't like making him fully right. One of James’ legs fell limp as his hands reached for Aleks, nails making themselves known in Aleks’ flesh before he was shoved hard to switch the positions. 

His eyes flinched up to gaze over James, jaw open with a smile as his fingers went to get the same type of painful grip that James still had on him, digging at James’ sides to feel like he still had control of the situation. Fun fact: he didn't. James had to all but give him a wasted grin of confidence and Aleks was all but candle wax liquifying from the flame’s heat. 

Then the real fun begins, James leaning and moving over so close to Aleks that he could probably smell bile on him if he tried for it, their bodies moving so out of sync, but it still felt right. So, so fucking right. It was like a pair of poorly cut puzzle pieces, they fit but in a way that they weren't supposed to. Cut wrong and fit too tight, couldn’t be disconnected, but the picture still came together, still formed something nice to look at. Nice isn't the right word, but the point still stands. 

The suffocation has come back, but it felt good this time, like a tight hand on Aleks’ throat while he just enjoyed himself, eyes eating the view like a feast for the kings. It felt amazing, but saying James took his breath away would sound too gay even for drunk Aleks to admit. 

The open mouthed smile, pinned to James’ face, distorted with the occasionally moan. Fuck me - Aleks couldn't help but think while he fucked more of those unlawful noises from James, knocking down James’ spurt of dominance. He kept James still while he focused on his job, fingers spiking bruises into the soft skin under them as he pushed them both towards the edge of the cliff. 

“Touch- fuck, Jesus dude, touch yourself, asshole,” he huffed before he clenched his jaw, eyes crinkling and muscles beginning to tense up painfully while he pushed and pushed towards that high. 

“Gotta do all the work ‘r-round here,” the mutter would've made Aleks smile, grin in earnest but his attention was trained on James’ hand moving to get a hand around his cock, them for once in the whole damn night attempting in vein to match the pace of the other, it just making a bigger mess.

Aleks was first to pop, back arched and muscles pulled taut in on themselves, he felt a balloon pop in his gut, a satisfactory groan breaking up and leaving him in a gust. His eyes twitched to stay open, wanting nothing more than to watch the scene before him fully unfold. James was still trying to grind Aleks into him, not very pleased that the other stopped so rudely. It was sending little waves of too much through Aleks, but he stayed quiet if only to appreciate in full how James was trying to force it, muscles spasming with how he wouldn't give himself a second to just allow himself to let go. Aleks could help with that. 

Aleks reached up a trembling hand to tangle into the bundle of curls on James’ head, yanking him down to smother him in a kiss. His hand subtly pushed James' aside to replace it, getting a shallow moan of appreciation against his lips while he flicked his wrist in quest to kick James off the fucking edge with force. It worked - James was twisting in on himself, practically convulsing while black dotted his vision and warm come dribbled over on Aleks’ stomach, flushed dark over his face and shoulders. 

“Holy fuck.” Aleks was staring, sleepy tone filled with amazement to the disgusting scene, unwrapped and gifted to his eyes in all its wonder and filth. He glued his eyes up to James, his hands beside Aleks’ head to keep himself up, shaky, hot breath coming out in warm puffs, almost close enough for Aleks to feel tickle his face. He reached a hand behind himself to weakly push up, tilting his chin up to catch James’ mouth in a lot more controlled and slow kiss. 

That's where he goes blank again, mind racing to recall what was said or wasn't, head pounding in the morning to try and remember how he ended up alone in his junkyard of a room - or how he got there all together. His body ached with a lot more bruising than he could retrace or retell, but the memory of the face attached to the unforgettable name was still fresh as could be in his current state of pain. 

Guess even James couldn't bring that chain of permanency.


End file.
